#rebuilding from ashes

[manticore239]

The Yellowing Road

I wish I could say I was as calm as I looked, but I’m not. Beneath the skin-deep poise, a tremor ripples through me—uncontrollable, panicked shaking, the inevitable result of breaking the one rule: “Don’t look down.” But it’s too late. I’ve seen it, and no amount of willing blindness can undo that revelation.

Everyone complains about the irregularities of the road we walk on. Some stub their toes and curse. Others wrinkle their noses at the ever-present stench. People trip and fall, slicing themselves open on jagged edges, their wounds oozing and festering. “It is what it is,” they say. “Don’t complain about what you can’t fix.”

But the road isn’t merely flawed. It was built from desperation and innovation, from the remains of a past too grotesque to face. Its very foundation is a concrete mixture of human remains, ground and reconstituted into something we tread on daily without thought. Beneath my feet, brittle bones crunch like dry leaves. A kicked fragment skitters ahead—not a stray walnut but an amalgam of shattered teeth and plastered dental fillings, clicking off the hollowed skulls of expired strangers.

We all know the truth, deep down. That’s why no one looks. To look down is to risk annihilation of the soul. The road is a graveyard, a monument to everything we’ve consumed to survive. A single glance is enough to rob you of sleep, of sanity, of the will to keep moving. Look long enough, and you’ll crumble under the weight of it, become bedridden, unable to earn your place above the cement. You’ll fall, and soon enough, your body will join the next avenue’s unholy mix.

I see it in the eyes of others when they catch me staring downward, their gazes flickering with recognition and dread. My expression betrays the truth they’ve repressed, shattering their fragile denial. Their fear mirrors mine, though they hide it better—for now. But reality stinks worse than decay, a stench too foul for our senses to endure.

And yet, amid this nightmare, I notice something else. Tiny shoots of green—thin, fragile tendrils forcing their way through cracks in the pavement. They seem impossible, and yet they persist, defying the weight of the road above them. They draw their strength not from denial but from the very horror we refuse to face, reclaiming nourishment from the remnants of what once was.

The others don’t notice, their gazes locked firmly forward or cast to the ground in resignation. But I see them—the first flowers of a truth too powerful to suppress. They whisper to me, their petals trembling in the foul wind: Life endures. Beauty endures. Even here.

A choice lies before me. I can keep walking, pretending not to see, preserving the illusion of stability while cracks spider-web beneath my feet. Or I can kneel—risk breaking the unspoken rules—and nurture the green shoots rising from the ashes. To touch them is to risk everything. But perhaps, in the end, it is the only way to rebuild a road that doesn’t demand our bones.

[teecupangel]

Dc x Ac Crossover idea

Desmond survived the solar flare and thru events become bruce Waynes sugarbaby

Feel free to ignore just thought it might be an interesting concept

To make this easier for us, we’ll have Desmond transported into the DC world after the Solar Flare. This way, we don’t have to make an excuse why the other DC superheroes couldn’t do something about the Solar Flare or how they learned about it too late.

Or… you know… we can have Desmond meet Batman because the Justice League was able to stop the Solar Flare and that leads to Batman learning about the Grand Temple and meeting Desmond.

Anyway, regardless of how it’s done, the main setup would be that Desmond would set up shop in Gotham because it’s more of his alley. The rogue gallery there is something he can manage and Gotham is under Batman’s purview so he doesn’t normally have to deal with the other DC characters… normally.

In this situation, Desmond would not know anything about Batman or DC as his world doesn’t have DC comics. So when he meets Bruce Wayne in a gala or something where he’s working as the bartender, he just thought of him as a charming rich dude.

A charming rich dude that he sucked off during his break.

But that’s about it.

Then, a few weeks later, Bruce Wayne comes into his bar and they talk…

He serves him drinks and one of his “we have no menu you eat what I want to cook for the day” meal…

They fucked in the small apartment he has above the bar…

Bruce Wayne leaves and Desmond thought that would be the end of it.

He wasn’t expecting anything from Bruce.

And he’s trying to keep a low profile as he build up his information network so he can plan how to to be an Assassin in Gotham without making a mistake that will shatter the order holding Gotham if he was to start building his Brotherhood.

Then…

Bruce Wayne visited his bar once again (always while it was closed) and…

Things spiral from there.

At first, Desmond assumed they were fuck buddies which he didn’t mind.

Then…

Bruce started giving him expensive gifts and Desmond can’t say no, not when his Bleed of Ezio has given him a taste of how nice it was to have expensive good quality things…

And then…

Bruce started taking him to places… high quality hotels… restaurants that need reservation for months just to get in…

Vacation spots that needs them having to use Bruce’s private jet…

It was only when he finally met one of Bruce’s sons, Damien Wayne, who calls him ‘father’s paramour’ that he realized…

Holy shit.

He was Bruce Wayne’s sugar baby.

.

.

On the other side of this story is Bruce who had been surprised (and enjoyed) by the blowjob and had only done a cursory check of Desmond’s identity because… well… he has a history for romancing people who would stab him in the back later on and…

… came up blank.

Desmond has an identity, sure, but it was fake.

Before that…

There was nothing.

So he went to the bar to investigate further and…

They fucked in Desmond’s place above the bar.

After that…

Bruce started to visit to keep an eye on him.

He started to feel bad because he was having sex with someone who doesn’t know he was trying to figure out their real identity (especially when Desmond seems so earnest about how he appreciates Bruce’s visits) so he started… giving him gifts as a way of apologizing without really apologizing.

Then he started taking Desmond out, starting with Gotham to check if Desmond is okay being seen with him then…

He started bringing Desmond to other places, trying to check if anyone would recognize him some way or another.

And feel bad because he is making Desmond bait for whatever past he was trying to hide.

Until Damien called Desmond ‘father’s paramour’ and Bruce realized…

He was too deep in this that he cannot tell Desmond the truth in fear of Desmond leaving him and no longer even caring what past Desmond is hiding.

… oh.

He was in love.

… well, fuck.

[acourtofquestions]

Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside. But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged. Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried. A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her. Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected. She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way. Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow. That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do. He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line. Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

[aleksanderscult]

If there were anything you could change about Aleksander's and Alina's core personalities what would you choose?

Ooh interesting question...

Let's start with Aleksander. I don't think I would change anything about him, to be honest. Maybe I'd make him have less trauma because I really feel sorry for him. But that's impossible for a man that has lived for so long. When you're immortal you are bound to get traumatized by manyyy things. But no, I don't think I would change anything. I love him and accept him as he is. In fact, I admire many of his qualities (won't elaborate on them now because this requires a different ask or its own post).

Now about Alina. Boy. I would change many things. But the one thing I would absolutely change in her character is her avoidance of responsibility and selfishness. I would make her think less of Mal and more about her country and the Grisha. Literally the whole trilogy was "Mal", "Mal?", "Mal!", "Oh my Saints, Mal!", "Where is Mal??", "Don't hurt Mal!!". Like there's people that are dying here, Alina😭😭

So yeah I would make her more responsible and take the reins about this whole Grisha persecution. In a perfect world Alina would take a leading position and change things for the better for her people (while still having her powers). Try to make right from wrong. Help Nikolai restore the balance between the First and Second Army and aid him to the Fjerdan wars. Be a good diplomat in time to make Ravka have a decent (at least) relationship with Shu Han and other countries. With a powerful Grisha as Queen and a charismatic otkazat'sya as King, Ravka could change for the better. Even without her powers her influence would be great, I think. Alina could grow herself to become a good leader only if she stopped thinking about herself and getting overwhelmed with her feelings. Like in R&R when she thought "I wish I had cut that rope and let them all drown" or something. So yeah. Thinking more rationally, be a pragmatist and work for the greater good of her country. She saw the state of Ravka, the state of Dva Stolba (the place she was born) where people were living in exhausting and terrible conditions. She felt pity for them. Did she do something about it? Nope.

When the Darkling died she should have said "Yes, what he did was horrible. But why did he do those things? What pushed him over the edge? What made him be this way? What he was fighting so ardently for?" and then try to fix these things in her own way. She should learn from the Darkling (his mistakes, his words to her, his actions, his cause), instead of running away and leaving everyone behind.

Everybody always criticizes the villains and their deeds (characters and readers alike) but nobody ever asks why and what made them this way. And nobody ever tries to solve the problem they were fighting for.

No. We only care about their defeat.

(Oh and I would have her have more badass moments like when she used the Cut to destroy the dome in the dining hall of the Little Palace in S&S or when she used her powers to stand up to the Apparat and his men in R&R. We needed a more assertive Alina, let's be honest 😌).

[felinoir]

𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙺'𝚂   𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙰𝙽   𝙴𝙰𝚂𝚈   𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙴   𝙵𝙾𝚁   𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙾𝙼.   It   didn’t   matter   the   time   of   day,   it   didn’t   matter   if   it   was   his   labs   or   his   residence,   the   mix   of   physical   and   digital   security   was   a   delightfully   complex   puzzle   with   relatively   low   stakes   that   Felicia   could   work   at   over   and   over   again   until   it   cracked.   The   worst   that   could   happen   would   be   dodging   a   couple   of   blasts   from   a   tin   suit,   but   those   things   were   noisy   and   anyone   with   ears   half   as   sensitive   as   hers   could   hear   them   coming   from   a   mile   away.

Ever   since   they   kinda   sorta   bonded   over   their   murderous,   crazy   exes,   it   became   a   personal   favorite   pastime   to   be   a   thorn   in   @overclocks'   side.   At   first   it   was   showing   up   to   watch   (and   then   spoil)   shows   on   all   of   the   streaming   platforms   he   subscribed   to,   then   to   eating   the   leftovers   in   his   fridge,   and   now   this   —   eating   one   of   the   many   pints   of   expensive,   artisan   ice   cream   while   sitting   on   expensive   marble   countertops.   He   couldn’t   be   too   upset,   she   brought   presents   this   time   as   a   mea   culpa   trade   in   the   form   of   a   single   usb   drive   jam packed   with   information   on   a   burgeoning   new   cell   of   one   terrorist   group   or   another   forming   in   the   city.   

Not   her   circus,   not   her   monkey,   the   names   of   all   the   groups   bent   on   destroying   civilization   all   blurred   together   after   a   while.   But   the   lights   in   the   kitchen   went   up   and   the   thief   blinked   citrine   eyes   at   the   owner   of   the   penthouse   she   had   broken   into.

“Didn’t   take   you   for   a   pineapple   upside   down   cake   ice   cream   kind   of   man,   but   I’m   not   complaining.   This   ice   cream   is   delightful.   Want   some?”

[purityvalentine]

Also I've been discouraged about posting on Twitter lately because I feel like I am unwittingly providing material for someone to weaponise as an irritant for no apparent reason lately...

Sometimes I try not to care and sometimes I just forget that it happens and the rest of the time I'm like hmm... Think I'll just... be quieter...

But then also like, please do not think I'm dead if I don't post on Twitter I fucking hate that website.

[poser-in-a-parkuhh]

My top bands and songs for February 2023

[theperplexedpoet]

a resurrection of self

a meditation on healing one more volume for the shelf drawing cards intent on dealing a resurrection of self line by line, I am rebuilding these reflections that are cast all the while, I am still fielding questions that the pen has asked attempting to see more clearly the winding path I have tread hoping that the heart will hear me to know what now lies ahead a meditation on healing one more volume for the shelf drawing cards intent on dealing a resurrection of self line by line, I am redrafting these reflections that remain praying they will be more lasting than those cast here by the pain attempting to hold more dearly to each of the words I've bled hoping that the heart sees clearly how I used each drop it shed a meditation on healing one more volume for the shelf drawing cards intent on dealing a resurrection of self line by line, I am rewriting these reflections that are cast all the while, I'm still deciding who will rise up from the ash (5/26/23)

[t4tpumpkinduo]

my one weird iguess lore take is that i find phil so moe ilike kinda forgive him for everything does that make sense

[ismails]

Please help me rebulid my Bakery

Vetted here by @90-ghost

I'm Ismail Almughanni an entrepreneur from devastated Gaza trying his best to rebuild his Bakery 🍞🥐🥖

On a quiet morning, the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the street, signaling the start of a new day at your small bakery, a place you took immense pride in. For years, this bakery had been a haven where people from all around would gather to enjoy the warm, delicious pastries and bread that you carefully crafted. It was a symbol of hard work, a beacon of hope, and a destination for anyone seeking a taste of comfort amidst life's challenges.

But one day, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The sounds of bombing began to shake the city, and it wasn’t long before the fires of war reached your neighborhood. There was no warning, no chance to escape or save what you could. Shells rained down on the district that housed your beloved bakery. You watched helplessly from a distance, unable to do anything.

Minutes passed like hours. When the noise finally subsided, and the thick smoke that blocked out the sun began to clear, you looked towards your cherished place. It was destroyed.

The walls that once protected you and brought you closer to your customers had collapsed, and the oven where you had kindled the flames of hope had turned to ash. Everything was shattered, broken, as if that place had never been a sanctuary of peace and comfort.

But the destruction wasn’t just physical. The pain in your heart was far greater than any material loss, a place filled with beautiful memories now reduced to rubble. The moments when you saw smiles on people’s faces as they savored your bread, the laughter that echoed through the bakery—those were now just memories, dissolving in the ashes of devastation.

As days went by, you tried to piece together the fragments, not just of the bakery but of yourself as well. You knew rebuilding wouldn’t be easy, and the wounds left by the war wouldn’t heal quickly. But you also knew that the hope you had infused into your bread would remain alive in your heart, even if the tables and chairs were destroyed, even if the bakery itself was gone.

The bakery may have been destroyed by war, but its spirit lives on in you, in everyone who tasted your bread, and in everyone who walked into that small place and found a slice of happiness.

Here the pictures show Ismail doing his job as a baker, but in the harsh war, after he had a large bakery, he started baking and helping people in an old oven made of clay. His first and last concern was to help people.🌾🥐🥖

Vetted here by @90-ghost

[kree8r0]

Would hastening societal collapse do more harm than good?

This post is a response to a question posed in its complete format: “Attempting to increase global problems to bring societal collapse sooner, would that do more harm than good?” Societal collapse is, by definition, the most harm that can be done. It may seem like the easiest way to address the rampant corruption we see today, but there is no guarantee against a new and next-generation form of…

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[yuutaok]

I saw mcr this last weekend & it actually killed meeee

Idk a whole album about a man dying from cancer after my friend just passed from his lymphoma destroying his body and immune system really just 😝🔫

It was really really beautiful, I cried really hard. So much more than I thought I would. It’s weird how grief just rises up even though I thought I would be fine. Especially with the simple visuals and violin rearrangements. Ah…

[radrush]

it's weird to feel like I had a super disappointing september and am mostly burnt out and coping right now while also feeling like I'm at a better baseline with myself than I have been at any point in the past several years

[felinoir]

❝   𝚆𝙴   𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝚃𝙾   𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿   𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂,   𝙶𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝙾𝚄𝚂.      ❞   Cats   are   perfectly   evolved   to   be   both   opportunistic   and   ambush   predators,   seeing   an   opening   and   making   the   most   of   it   with   both   claws   and   fangs.   Thieves   weren’t   much   different   and   Felicia   Hardy   was   doomed   to   see   everything   through   a   craven   and   self-serving   lens,   where   friends   could   become   marks   with   the   bat   of   an   eyelash   and   even   tragedy   could   be   flipped   to   her   advantageous   gain.   It’s   one   of   the   many   reasons   why   relationships   slipped   through   her   fingers   like   sand,   but   she   could   no   more   change   her   a   leopard   could   change   it’s   spots.   

So   in   the   chaos   of   whatever   was   attacking   the   city,   the   Cat   decided   to   liberate   some   diamonds.   The   League   seemed   to   have   it   well   enough   in   hand   and   with   their   inattention   .   .   .   She   got   caught   with   her   hand   in   the   proverbial   cookie   jar.   The   thief’s   neck,   wrists,   and   clawed   digits   were   heavy   with   precious   metals   and   glittering   stones   and   the   grin   she   leveled   at   @am4zon   was   utterly   shameless.   

❝   Someone   might   get   the   𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈   𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂   about   us.   ❞

[reasonsforhope]

This is kind of a weird reason for hope, honestly, but it genuinely changed how I think about catastrophe.

Historical fact that you probably do not know:

At least 30-50% of the population of Pompeii survived.

Maybe even the majority of the people of Pompeii survived.

(The numbers 30-50% there are according Professor J. Theodore Peña, a professor of ancient Roman archeology who studies Pompeii, whom I took a class on Pompeii with in 2018. The numbers of "maybe even the majority" are from articles linked below.)

Yes, that Pompeii, the one where the entire city was swallowed by a volcanic eruption.

And no, I'm not kidding. x, x, x, x, x, x

So how this is possible, that anyone could survive, when the entire city was literally buried in volcanic ash? And the answer is that the eruption actually took place over the course of almost 24 hours, as the earthquakes and clouds of smoke emitting from Pompeii gradually got worse and worse, followed by the ejection of ash and giant stones that gradually escalated, until the fifth pyroclastic flow (aka giant wave of searing hot ash) hit the city.

So, people had a bit less than 24 hours to flee the city. And many of them did, whether by boat or cart or horse or foot. And many of them made it.

Pompeii is the iconic, ultimate example we have, culturally, for a natural disaster that causes complete annihilation.

But it never caused complete annihilation at all. Not of the people who lived there.

I think climate change, ultimately, is going to be like Pompeii. Yes, there will be natural disasters. Yes, it will keep getting worse for a while.

Yes, people will die, and yes, we do need to act fast, and we need to do all that we can to save every single living being that we can.

But unlike the people of Pompeii, we have the ability to fix most of the effects of climate change. We have the ability to cool the planet down from whatever temperature it ultimately hits. (Masterpost on this here.)

Natural disasters fucking suck. But as the true story of Pompeii exemplifies, they are often a lot more survivable than we think. And we have benefits and resources and technology and knowledge above all communication that the people of Pompeii never did - in fact, we're getting so good at building for and detecting and warning for natural disasters that the number of people dying from natural disasters has been plummeting, even as natural disasters are getting worse and worse (x).

We are going to survive climate change (x). We are going to fix as much of it as we can (x). And we are going to rebuild afterward.

Because as the many survivors of Pompeii show, that's what humans do.